Vivez
by Mellovesall
Summary: A Olicity Historical Romance AU inspired by the movie, The Scarlet Pimpernel. One of my all time favorite films is the 1982 version of The Scarlet Pimpernel. I fell in love with Anthony Andrews when I was 13 years old and to this day his portrayal of the Scarlet Pimpernel still makes me swoon. This will probably be about 3 chapters.
1. Chapter 1

London, England 1793

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Lady Felicity Overwatch, widow of the Earl of Smoak, a renowned beauty of the English ton and member of a clandestine network that helped smuggle aristocratic Parisian children into Britain and away from the violent, bloodthirsty mobs of the reign of terror that currently swept France, stood at the edge of the crowded ballroom and tried not to show her distaste for the decadent waste of elite society.

How could so many people stand by and dance and laugh while so many lives were being snuffed out in the most heinous and callous of ways in a country not far from their own? Entire families, who had committed no offense other than to have been born into French gentry and wealth, were sent to the guillotine under thunderous cheers of revolutionary masses.

For the last year, after losing her beloved husband Arthur to a sudden and unexpected sickness, Felicity had wanted, no, she had needed something to aspire to. A higher cause. And she had found it by helping a covert group, run by an elusive and mysterious leader known only by his symbol, the flower called the Scarlet Pimpernel. No one knew his true identity, but he was extremely clever and amazingly good at what he did. He, with the help of others like herself, helped save countless innocent lives.

She shivered at the memory of the first time she had seen the man. After months of discreetly mentioning her sympathies with the plight of those being persecuted, she was approached to help. Her cliff-side residence, in the remote seaside corner of Dover, was to be used as an entry point, one of many secret arteries of the network, to help bring the orphans into Britain. Felicity had made sure to be in attendance, at the first arrival of the delicate goods, to ensure that every specification she had been sent, via a letter signed only with the melted red wax seal of a flower, was met.

And there he was, walking ashore in the dim moonlight, through the shallow waves of the small, hidden cove located under the cliffs of her manor house, tall and virile, dressed all in black with a sword hanging at his side like a wicked pirate. A cloth mask was tied over the top half of his face and short cropped hair, only revealing a strong masculine jawline, full sensual lips and two piercing blue eyes that conveyed his displeasure at her unplanned presence. His arms had been full of two small children who even in their sleep clung to him like the savior he was.

He had gently handed one of the little boys to her and as the warmth and weight of the exhausted child melted against Felicity's chest he said, with a perfect mix of reprimand and teasing, "This is an unexpected pleasure, Lady Smoak,"

His deep, husky baritone, caused the rest of her body to ignite with a heat she had never felt before. Never. Not even with her beloved Arthur. The lenses of her unique silver framed eye spectacles, fogged over just a little bitty bit, before she was able to pull herself together enough to respond.

"I only wished to make sure everything went as you requested. I could not bear it if one of the children did not make it to safety. I meant no harm,"

He did not respond, simply looked at her as if taking measure of her heart, and ultimately coming to the conclusion that she was sincere.

He said not one word more to her, but as he delivered the last child to the men he had stationed at her home and glanced back at her, as he boarded the small boat that had rowed him ashore, he tipped his head to her in acknowledgement and appreciation.

And that one encounter had sealed Felicity's fascination with the Scarlet Pimpernel.

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She was jostled out of her musings by the boisterous movement of the ballroom's revelers and had to straighten the diaphanous silk layers of her roman styled gown that proclaimed her Aphrodite, the goddess of love, beauty and pleasure. It was too revealing for her personal taste, with so much of her skin exposed, but it had been all that her hand maid could come up with at the last minute. Her long blonde hair was styled high upon her head with a few loose curls that rested upon her chest. She was one, if not the only woman that moved in society, who was known to wear corrective lenses in public and she frowned as she thought of all the vanity that made that fact, so.

The annual costume ball, hosted by Lord Oliver Queen, the Duke of Starling, was always packed to capacity and Felicity had reluctantly decided to attend to keep up appearances as a carefree English Lady.

Felicity looked around the room, its gaudy decor overwhelming her senses, and did not see the Duke of Starling with his usual group of eager to please him "friends." The man was an enigma to her and a man she had the most conflicting feelings about. From the first, it had always been that way. At her coming out ball three years earlier, she had been instantly attracted to his indigo blue eyes, charming smile and tall, athletic build until...he spoke, and therein lay the problem. He was a charismatic and handsome man, yet, peculiar. With each absurd, flowery and high-pitched word and inane riddles without answers he muttered, revealed a soul that belonged to a ridiculous fop of a dandy who was only concerned about gossip, the indiscretions of those around him and the latest fashions, which he wore to an unabashedly fanciful and lace-filled extreme. He probably owned more powdered wigs than she did.

But Felicity swore, at the oddest moments over the years...she would catch the briefest flashes of cunning and intense intelligence, frustrated boredom and...loneliness in his stare. Perhaps she only wished to see more to him and they were figments of her imagination because she would blink, and his trademark laugh and flamboyant turn of phrase, "sink me," would remind her of what and who he really was. A man, not meant for her.

Although he was blessed with a face that made a woman's body crave and want things, his frivolous nature had guided Felicity away and towards a better man in Arthur. Arthur had been much, much older, but gentle and kind. They had not been blessed with any children and with no living male descendants, Felicity had inherited his fortune. One to rival the Duke of Starling's as a matter of fact.

Felicity sighed with disinterest and decided to find a peaceful corner to wait out the evening till it was appropriate to leave. She found her way through the crowd and walked through the hallways till she found a quieter wing of the house and entered through a set of french doors that brought her into a stunning floral solarium.

The scent of oranges and a multitude of exotic flowers welcomed her as she walked through the beautiful indoor garden and she felt at ease for the first time in a long, long time. She stretched on her toes to smell a blossom that hung from a tree branch and then her abrupt, scream of surprise was muffled under the hand that was placed over her mouth and pulled her into a secret room off the edge of the conservatory.

She struggled against the hard, muscular body that towered over her from behind and the fingers that kept her from making any further sound as the hidden door slid closed in front of her and sealed them away from the faint voices in French that could be heard coming closer.

"Steady now, I won't hurt you," was whispered to her, and she instantly recognized the baritone. The softness of the lips that had grazed the shell of her ear made shivers of awareness run through her body.

The Scarlet Pimpernel. What was he doing here?

His arms tightened and drew her closer so that she was surrounded by his heat and solid strength as both of them listened to the hushed conversation unfold on the other side of the wall.

Felicity's futile struggling completely ceased after she realized who the whispers belonged too and tried to catch every muffled word spoken in the other room. Bits and pieces of the conversation painted a picture of what was going on. They were two French operatives sent to spy on and gather information amongst the English and were on the trail of who they thought was the Scarlet Pimpernel. They had followed a shadowy figure into the manor as the Duke's annual costume ball was in full swing. French spies and the Scarlet Pimpernel? Why wasn't Felicity terrified?

She was plastered against, head to toe, soft curves against sculpted granite, the Scarlet Pimpernel. A man, she did not know the identity of, and blood thirsty spies sent to destroy and kill him where just feet away. Yes, she was scared, but why wasn't she truly afraid? Instead of uncontrollable fear, she was excited and energized. And the steady cadence of the Scarlet Pimpernel's breaths and heartbeat and the way her body fit perfectly within the cradle of his arms, made her feel safe. Absurdly and crazily, safe.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I was so excited to see so many of you were TSP fans! It's a wonderful Romantic Adventure. After being asked by a few readers why this will only be a few chapters I wanted to explain that this story was only inspired by the movie and really started out as a one-shot, but became too long, so it will be posted as a few chapters. My story will not do the full adventure of the original story/movie justice, so I totally recommend you read the book and/or watch the movie. You will not be disappointed.

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The male voices grew indistinct and then completely disappeared as the men left the conservatory and Oliver Queen, the Duke of Starling...and the elusive Scarlet Pimpernel, took one last moment to savor the delicious feel of the female he held in his arms and the only woman he had ever loved, Lady Felicity Smoak. Love, it was a word that could never fully encompass what it was to admire, and to appreciate and care for a woman who made him want to be a better man.

Oliver had been shocked to find her in the solarium as he led the spies into a trap he had laid out, with the help of the King's guards, to arrest and take them into custody as they exited the private wing of the Duke of Starling's manor. After all, everyone knew the Duke of Starling was oblivious to what was happening around him half of the time.

Oliver had been forced to hide Felicity in one of his many secret passageways that were built throughout his home so as not to bungle the mission.

Her ripe, feminine curves seared themselves against his body. Her tantalizing costume afforded him a closeness that would otherwise only be allowed a husband or a lover. He was neither, but he wanted to be.

She was more exquisite then he could have ever imagined. They stood as they were, locked in his embrace, both reluctant to break the connection. The air around them growing heavy with awareness and attraction. It was tangible and heady to Oliver's senses. He could taste it in the air as he licked his suddenly dry lips. Every movement and sound she made was an amplified detail that made his body stir. He could not hide his reaction to her and his color heightened in the dark as his member grew hard against the small of her back.

Her breasts brushed against his arm with her ever quickening breaths. He dropped his hand from her mouth as his other crushed the layered silk of her gown that gathered at her waist. He pushed her closer to the hidden panel in front of them as he placed his free palm against it. Her profile was all refined beauty and lines and he could no longer resist.

She sighed with pleasure as his nose gently nudged her glass frames before sensually trailing down the delicate skin of her cheek and the side of her neck as he searched for more of the intoxicating scent of honeysuckle that seemed an innate part of her.

Her body sang to him of its trust. Would her heart?

He had had a constant internal battle with himself for the last three years and in the dark confined space of his secret passage and after being able to touch her for the first time...he finally lost the fight. He lost the fight against showing her who he really was and what he had always wanted. He was exhausted, he was lonely for her and he was hurt. A shallow cut and bruises received during a sword fight earlier in the night were smarting. He knew the wound would not kill him, but the danger he constantly walked amidst only highlighted the importance of living life to the fullest and to its happiest. Vivez. Live.

Every cell of his being called out for her. Countless nights where he woke with his body wanting and needing only hers and every horribly embarrassing and idiotic conversation he had to "perform" in front of her had hurtled him towards this inescapable moment. He had been so close to telling her his secrets when she contacted one of his network of English spies to join them, but he had been afraid. Afraid she would reject him or even worse, not believe him.

From that fateful day at her debut ball when he first laid eyes on her, across a room full of fools who only saw what he wanted them to see, he had wanted to cast aside his disguise as an imbecile and vain popinjay to claim her.

For years he had worked for his Majesty's service and suffered in private as he had to watch the woman he wanted, look at him with confusion and too many times to count, disappointment. And he had to watch her marry another man. That...had almost killed him.

Only the genuine affection and security she had found with the Earl of Smoak had kept Oliver from splintering into a thousand pieces. Only the lives he saved and the good works he did as the Scarlet Pimpernel had saved his dying heart from that same fate. And only they, had kept it whole enough, so that he could offer it to her when the time was right. For right now.

He moved his lips back to the shell of her ear and finally told her.

"Sink me," he whispered.

He felt her stiffen against his body and heard the harsh intake of breath at the recognition.

And when she twisted in his arms, he let her go, to face...his future. One he hoped would have her in it.

"How? I don't understand. You have lied all this time?" she said in shocked disbelief, after she turned and faced him. He could see the confusion on her face as she looked up at him. The passageway was full of shadows and they both needed light to have this conversation.

"Come with me," he asked as he found her hand and once he felt her take hold of his; he pulled her through the darkness towards his master suites.

She didn't say anything as they walked through the maze of hidden hallways. They rounded one last corner and he pulled on a latch on the wall and a door opened revealing a large bedroom that was lit with a soft glow from its fireplace. Overflowing bookshelves lined all three walls and splashes of warm red accent colors were found throughout the room; threaded in the luxurious rugs on the floor, the counterpane of the large four poster bed, and cushions and pillows on his dark wood furniture.

Felicity did not follow him into the room and he slowly let go of her hand. He walked through the door then turned to her. They both stood looking at each other and as she continued to stand in the shadowed doorway...as she continued to harden herself against him... Oliver had to accept her distrust. He couldn't read her. Her face was devoid of any emotion. Had her disbelief and confusion turned to apathy? Anger? Did she hate him? The decision to become a spy for his country was one made before he had ever met her and it would seem one that would continue to keep them apart.

To tell her...It had been a risk he had been willing to make and one he had lost. Pain stabbed at his heart and all he could do was bundle it away and draw from the strength of being a good and decent man. He would not force his love on her. She didn't need to know.

He was very, very good at performing and he would continue to do so till he could see her home safely. But first, he needed to tend to his wounds.

With a sigh of resignation he pulled loose the cloth mask that hid his face and smiled gently at her. "It's safe, Lady Smoak. Enter, I won't hurt you."

It was liberating to be able to talk to her in his normal voice and his, normal self. At her silence he turned to walk over to the table by the fire, that his trusty valet, Thomas, always had prepared to treat any wounds he would come back from his missions with.

Oliver unstrapped his sword belt from around his waist and laid it on the table. As he slowly pulled the blood smeared shirt from his breeches and gingerly begun to lift it over his head he heard her shocked exclamation.

"Why didn't you tell me you were hurt? You, fool,"

At the feel of her fingers on the exposed skin of his back Oliver shuddered. He shook from her concern.

"I'm quite all right my lady. It is but just another scratch. And yes, I am the fool. The biggest fool in society," he stepped away from her touch, refusing to meet her eyes and set his shirt by his sword. He glanced down at his right side and saw the long angry line of the scratch and the newly blossoming purples and blues of his bruises.

"That wasn't what I meant. Look at me, please," she softly said, from behind him.

He steeled himself for more rejection to come then did as she asked. He turned to her and when their eyes connected, only tenderness met his.

"I...you, amaze me," she said, with wondrous wonderment, as she raised her shaking fingers and began to delicately trace across the angles of his face. First a gentle touch across his eyebrow, taking in the blues of his eyes, then down the curve of his cheek and along the sexy scruff of his jawline. "Oliver, who are you?"

He shut his eyes against the waves of beautiful heart wrenching agony her touch and his name on her lips wrought. He couldn't believe she was touching him. That she was talking to him and seeing, him. Him. Oliver Queen. Not the dandy and the fool. Not the Scarlet Pimpernel. Oliver.

He gently gripped her wrist, effectively stopping her exploring and seductive fingers. He wouldn't be able to take much more. She overwhelmed him. He opened his eyes and said, "Just a man."


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: M-Rated_

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 _Just a man._

His words resonated with her. Did he really think that? For years, she had felt something about him had not been...right. She could never explain it. She thought she had been imagining things or superimposing her own wants onto him. The enigma and puzzle that was the Duke of Starling had confused and enticed. Now, now she knew why.

His firm, yet gentle grip on her wrist had stopped her exploring fingers, but ignited other, thirsts. She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of warm, seductive male, and stepped into his personal space.

"No, not, just a man. But a man who sacrifices his manhood, his reputation..his life, to help others. To bring scared, traumatized children to safety. You are more than just a man…you, are more,"

Felicity watched, enthralled and captivated, as the indigo blue of his eyes swirled with emotions, she evoked. Surprise, respect and vindication, then...need, pure intoxicating need. Oliver was magnificent and he wanted her. It sent a lightning bolt of lust right to the center of her sex. It sang a siren's call to her.

Her nipples hardened through the gossamer fabric of her gown and she squeezed her thighs together seeking relief as her core pulsed and grew slick with her reaction to him. Holding her gaze, he brought her wrist to his mouth and placed a kiss on her rapidly beating pulse point. At her gasp of pleasure, his plump, pillowy lower lip, that Felicity now had the most insane craving to bite, brushed against her sensitive skin.

"Yes, I am more…I am, yours,"

 _Yours._ She shook from the magnitude of his declaration.

The single word wrapped itself tightly around her heart and the secret part of her soul, that craved respect, adventure and freedom; that had always had to hide in this society of women 'not counting' and women 'not being worthy,' broke free.

She could take her mask off, too. He would understand. He would accept.

"Then show me," she whispered the entreaty as she gave herself to him.

Oliver stilled at her unexpected words and then with a low, growl of need, he swooped down and took her lips in a devastatingly, luscious kiss. Her years as a wife to a good man had not prepared her for the wants of a hungry one. He was starved for her.

As their lips fed off each others, licking, sucking, loving...one hand threaded through the heavy silk of her curls, hair pins flying in all directions, as they flowed loose to hang over his arms and down her body. And the other, slid around her waist and pulled her flush against him.

She could feel how much he wanted her and it made her crazy. It humbled her and it set her on fire. Had she ever been wanted like this? Like she was...everything, he ever needed.

He picked her up, cuts and bruises be damned, and walked over to his bed setting her down on the edge. His chest and stomach, rose and fell in excited breaths, as she reached out and traced its beautifully detailed muscles and strength. She leaned forward to gently, so very gently kiss the bruises that marred his otherwise breathtaking body.

"Lady Smoak," he breathlessly said at her show of tenderness.

She looked up at him and sighed, "Felicity,"

"Felicity," he repeated back as he speared his fingers through her hair, gripped the back of her neck, and took her lips in every possible angle. He kissed her, achingly slow and tender, hard and deep. Time meant nothing, only the here and now, mattered.

She blinked her eyes open as she felt him reluctantly pull away. He took her spectacles off and set them on the table by the bed before reaching for the waistband of his black breeches. Felicity licked her kiss stung lips, savoring the flavor of him, as she watched him take them off and set his member free. Ohh, my. He was large, erect and ready.

She scooted back upon the bed and lay down as he crawled above her like a predator on the hunt. She watched him from under lust heavy eyes as he skimmed his palm under the hem of her dress, pushing the material higher, as he spread her thighs wide to settle between them. The cool air flowed over her overheated skin as she slid her knees up along his thighs, skin brushing skin, to squeeze his hips tightly between hers. He instinctively ground himself against her.

They both moaned as his hardness slid through the slick outer lips of her wet core and the arms that held him above her trembled.

Felicity reached for the pearl brooch high on her shoulder, that held her Roman gown together, and released it. And with shaking fingers, she pulled back the silk to reveal the soft, lush curves of her body to him.

All masks were gone. They were both truly naked. Only open hearts, hunger, and dreams remained.

"You bewitch me," Oliver said as bent his head, heat in his eyes, and kissed the skin above her heart. Then he took a pebbled nipple into his mouth and sucked on it while his lower body slid sensually through her saturated folds. It felt so good. So, very good, but she needed more. She needed all of him.

"I have always loved you," Oliver groaned as he released her nipple and started to push his length into her body as if he had heard her desperate thoughts.

"Oliver," she moaned, her back arching off the bed, as he filled her.

"Always," he sighed, as he gathered her tightly in his arms. He slid out and thrust back in. Again and again, over and over, driving their passions to the highest plane. Felicity screamed as her body tumbled over that ultimate precipice and Oliver followed soon after.

He kissed her forehead as he pulled out of her and drew her into the warmth and comfort of his arms.

They lay satiated, limbs wrapped around each other, in the dreamily lit room as the fire burned a golden amber.

Oliver leaned over and trailed a finger down the side of her face as if memorizing her, "May I, court you?"

Felicity's heart skipped a beat and the sweetness of his question made her smile.

Oliver continued in complete seriousness,"You will suffer the Ton's quiet mockery. I may be a Duke, but I am...a fool,"

Anger surged through Felicity at the thought of what he must deal with every day in society. And she wanted to be the one who could bring him comfort, know who he truly was and love him for it.

She cupped the side of his face and said, "Then we shall be the happiest fools they have ever seen,"

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Six months later, the Duke and Duchess of Starling, were seen happily dancing into the early hours of an autumn ball. Rumors and circulating gossip attested to the fact that the Duke was especially effervescent in his new found love and his outfit was, as usual, much more colorful and elaborately laced than his bride's.

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The End.


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